


A Mile Away (See Him)

by Jade_Riven



Category: Transfusions (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, F/M, OC insert, Past Relations, Sexual Content, Sickness, Smutt, he isnt huge in this one, joa is there for like a paragraph or three, mild nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Riven/pseuds/Jade_Riven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a wonderful life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mile Away (See Him)

Chapter 01.  
Memories (She Remembers)

 

IN A CASTLE FAR AWAY, nestled in the corner of France, there lives a vampire. A mean, cold vampire who feeds on the flesh and blood of his own kind. No, maybe, a warm vampire, who, though despite his dead heart, has a rather large one, and cares deeply for their offspring.

Anastasia likes that one better.

She sits in her lonely bedroom, reading the book that was placed on her vanity table top just the night before. It holds pictures, phrases, words. All in French, but for Anastasia, she has no trouble reading it.

A knock at her door makes her stand quickly, hiding the book underneath the covers. She wears a white bodice and a grey skirt, low heels showing underneath. "C-Come in...?" She says hesitantly. The door creaks open, and a tall man steps inside.

"Sire," She sighs with relief.

Marcel is a tall man, slim with blond hair a cleanly trimmed sideburns on his jawline. His eyes are a hypnotizing blue, however intimidating.  
"Dolly," Marcel murmurs, shutting the door. "Is the book nice?" He smiles, cheeks pulling back to bare his fangs.

"Yes, Sire, the pictures are very nice."

"Is French new to you?"

"No, Sire, I spoke French since I was very young."

Marcel walks forward, and instinctively, Anastasia sits down on the bed, looking up at him as he grabs her chin and forces her to look at him softly.

"You continue to surprise me, Dolly." He presses his hips into her chest and she slides her hands up his thigh, shutting her eyes as he presses a finger to her lips. 

"Lay down," he says, fishing the book from the sheets and setting it on the nightstand, allowing Anastasia to do as he says easily.

She complies readily, spreading her legs as Marcel drags a hand down her waist. "Touch yourself, Doll," He whispers, kissing her neck, rubbing her with his body as she hikes up her skirt.

She presses two fingers in and sighs with pleasure, massaging herself, her shoulders trembling. 

Anastasia tightens around herself, her back hunching over, eyes squeezing shut. Marcel looks at her, bright eyes gleaming in the dim light. His mouth moves to say something, and her body complies. She slips out of herself, her Index and middle finger covered in her own juices. Marcel groans, however, he fails to get an erection.

"Feed on me," Anastasia says softly, panting as she slowly undoes her bodice and carefully unbuttons her blouse underneath. Her perky breasts now free against her chest. “Please, you’ll feel good, I promise --”

He hushes her with his vice grip on her left breast. She lets out a whine, and Marcel straddles her naked torso. "Don’t tell me what to do. If I feed, then I will feed, if not, then you must respect that.” Anastasia whimpers. “Yes, sire.”

He palms himself as he gropes her, rolling his muscular hips, baring his fangs, running his tongue over them. Anastasia is getting restless, pink cheeks burning with blood that Marcel can hear pulsing in her veins. 

He pulls his hand away, and he’s hard now. Slowly, he sheds his coat and vest, keeping his shirt on, however unbuttoned. He raises up to stand on his knees, undoing his pants and belt, shedding them, along with his socks and shoes. “Do you want more of me?” he asks lowly, hands now gripping her shoulders, fingers tangling in her long hair. “Tell me how much it means to you,”

“S-o much,” Anastasia chokes out, “so much, I’ll die If you don’t do something quick,”

“You’ll die?” He sneers, “Won’t that be just terrible,”

He moves back to settle between her thighs, her legs resting beside him. She pants, a hand resting by her cheek, the other on her belly as he grips at her hips. “Feed on me, Mar --”

He pushes in roughly, and she cries out, eyes sliding shut as she squeezes around him. His pace is quick, painful, but she takes him in, bites her lip, and fists her hands in the sheets. Her moans still escape, and Marcel is grunting, groaning, and panting even though his lungs are dead. She chokes on her breath, and coughs, Marcel hissing and slows his pace slightly, leaning down to press his sensitive ears to her bouncing chest, listening to her heart pound inside her like feet slamming against pavement. 

“What a glorious thing, the human heart is. The very core of everything comes from there, doesn’t it, my sweet doll,” He asks Anastasia, who simply nods, swallows and arches her back, baring her neck to Marcel who glances up at it with pupil blown eyes and tousled hair.

“You push my limits, girl,” he murmurs, moving up to lick from her collar bone to her neck around the main artery. “But I am a man of control and patience. I will not let myself be drawn out by --”

“Sire, please,” Her legs are trembling, toes curling as she pants, ears burning red like her cheeks, like her lips, like the blood pumping in and out. In and out. Marcel hisses and grasp her by the chin roughly. 

“Let me speak!” he snaps at her, watching as tears brim in her rare golden eyes. “Humans never understand the loyalty they should possess towards my race.”

He quickens his pace again, bucking his hips, releasing Anastasia and grabbing at her waist to push her back against him, hefting her up she sits now in his lap, bouncing. Thin arms resting on his broad shoulders, hiccupping and moaning, riding him into Cloud 9 as he leaves dark marks on her chest and throat. 

Marcel feels light headed. His cock throbs and burns with pleasure. He wants to drink something -- his eyes droop, but every moan that leaks from Anastasia’s mouth makes him more awake than before, his metaphorical heart leaping every time she glances back down at him through her pleasure ridden haze. She hiccups out his name, stutters it, moans and whines it. Her mouth knows nothing else but him. His body, his name, his touch and voice. She knows nothing of any other man, woman or creature but him, and the thought that she would forever stay that way made him groan and lean up to lick at her neck again.

“I’m --” Anastasia feels her orgasm closing in, static filling her legs, coldness dragging up her nerves and warmth making her stomach burn white hot. “I’m -- ah --!" Marcel sinks his teeth deeply into her neck, drawing blood, pushing through his magic to make it as pleasurable as possible.

Anastasia climaxes quietly, her cry lost in the void of which Marcel has made her, unable to move, or make sound as she is racked so deeply with pleasure, with the dull pain of bleeding out from her neck, the warm feeling of his embrace. He pulls away after a few more minutes and licks her wound, healing it. Anastasia had fallen limp in his lap, her breathing calmed, but her heart still beating fast. She has her hands pressed to his back, palms warming the frozen tissue. 

“Marcel,” She whispers. He looks at her, eyes back to their Icy blue. He runs a hand through her hair to brush it from her tired face, and she manages a weak smile. “You see me... I really...”

Marcel moves off her and tucks her into the bed, hands smoothing the thick comforter. “You what?” His voice is calm and smoothing, Anastasia looks at him, a hand resting now on his. “I really do think I’m falling in love with you.” Her voice is even softer than a whisper, but Marcel has no trouble hearing her.

He makes no sound in an answer, and simply changes back into his clothing, slicking back his hair with his hands and keeping his eyes away from her. “It seems humans are even more interesting that I had thought,” He replies.

Anastasia sits up and bunches the sheets to cover her bare chest. "Sire," Her voice is pure, full of emotion that Marcel had once felt himself as a human, "Whether or not you accept my feelings, they are still there -- I want nothing to be held by your arms, to have you touch my like no other man..."

Marcel walks to the thick wooden door that blocks her room off from the other vampires in his castle. "Goodnight," he says softly, exiting the room.

Anastasia watches the door for a few more minutes after he has left, and then quickly changes. Slipping back into her shirt and bodice, hiking up her petticoats and skirt before toeing on her shoes on. She walks to the wall opposite of the door and throws open the thick, black curtains that darken her room. The moon, so bright and huge, hangs in the sky. Her eyes staring back down at Anastasia, seeming to cry tears of bright white stars that fill the sky. Anastasia clasps her hands together, falls to her knees, and bathes in the moonlight.

She prays to The Moon.

\- - - -

The morning brings warmth. Anastasia had slept on the wooden ground, her body stiff as she wakes, but the sun casts light so incredible on her hair. The doorknob turns and she sucks in a breath, quickly shutting the curtains and pressing her lips together in a thin line. 

It is not Marcel who visits her, but another man. "Who are you?" Anastasia says, backing against the window, hands gripped tight in her skirt. 

"Marcel told me to feed you and provide you a basin of water so you may clean."

She keeps still, heart beating, and the man keeps his calm demeanor. 

"Who are you?" Anastasia asks again, brow furrowing, eyes narrowing. 

"Dominique," He replies. "I will not hurt you,"

He steps Inside, and Anastasia doesn't not budge, ready to throw open the curtains. Behind him, another vampire brings in a glass plate of food, and leaves and returns again with water and a basic toothbrush with paste and soap. "Please wash up. At lunch I will be back to wash your sheets."

Dominique turns to leave. 

"Wait --" She takes a step forward, and the room shifts. She’s dizzy with dehydration. "Where -- Where Is Marcel?"

"Asleep," He replies. 

She is left alone in the dark once again. 

She strips down and bathes herself first in the water, hands scrubbing with the soap. She slips out, done washing herself, and then opens the window and sits on her previous clothing to dry herself. 

Marcel, she sighs, when you wake... I will be waiting.

She stands up, naked, and gathers the sheets off her bed, humming to herself, when suddenly the door opens again. She looks up, gasps and falls to her knees on the other side of the bed, covering herself. "Afraid of me?" Dominique asks. Anastasia shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. 

"Mar - Marcel had said no other man shall look upon me naked such as he has." She grits her teeth. "He said it will make me unclean."

Dominique searches through her head, searches through her thoughts and memories like a moving picture. He curses to himself and turns his head to the side. "My apologies." He grips the door handle. "I will... Leave you now."

Anastasia is alone for a while before she starts crying, tears plopping to the ground as her shoulders shake. She stays on her knees for a while, before she wipes her tears away and pulls the rest of the sheets off. She gathers them around herself and a knock sounds and a female vampire with hazel hair sets down a fold of clothes for her and leaves without another word. 

"Thank you," Anastasia mutters, before changing. Her bodice is red, embroidered with golden designs and thick red buttons down the back. The blouse underneath is milky white. She wears a red and golden skirt, with a thin petticoat underneath. She hikes up the thigh high socks, clips them to her garters and then lets the skirt brush the floor as she slips on her heels.

Her skin is clammy, her neck covered in sweat. She feels Dominique’s eyes on her, shudders making her feel queasy. He meant nothing of it! She screams to herself. His intentions were pure! I am still as good as I was before --! Before --! Her heart hammers in her chest and she pushes the basin against the wall by the door. She then stands by the window, the blinds pushed open, her hands on the wooden railing, and stares outside. The clouds roll over the horizon like cotton, the grass around the grounds green and healthy. She longs for the warmth to reach her skin unfiltered, and for a moment, she thinks of opening the window, even If it is just for a moment. She wants to breathe in the warm air, feel the rain on her skin, but she shuts the curtains and sits on the chair with her perfect posture and stares at the plate of food she had not touched.

Her stomach does not force her to eat, so she looks away simply, hands running over the edges in the wood of the desk. The female vampire takes the basin and a few more hours pass by, and someone comes In with a new plate of food, and changes her sheets to fluffy white ones. Anastasia looks at them.

"Where is Dominique?" She asks them. The vampire, one with the black hair looks up at her. 

"Can... You sign?" Their voice is dull, muted, but Anastasia quickly nods. “Yes,” She signs with her hands. “Where Is Dominique?” She asks again.

The vampire folds the sheets quickly. “He is sleeping now. He is not one for apologies, but he is very sorry for looking at you.”

Anastasia looks down solemnly, and sighs. “I forgive him,” 

The black haired vampire nods and leaves her once again. Anastasia picks at her food with her fork, moving the meat around on the plate. She exhales, eats a tiny bit before looking around the room, sitting on the bed, the ceilings low. The wood is dark, the candles lit at every corner of the room. She lays back, stretches her arms above her head. She yawns, rolls to her side. She’s bored, and walks to the window again, looking at the black fabric, studying it, smelling it. She then pulls the skirt of her dress up to her nose and Inhales.

She hacks and pulls it away from her nose. It smells of sweet Incense and smoke. I... I don’t smell like that, do I? She asks herself. I don’t leave this room, and the candles don’t smell that heavy...

Someone else wore this before me. A woman, another Lover of...

Anastasia shakes her head, retreats to the bed, and buries her face in her pillow. Of course he has had other woman here. Other men probably as well. I am not special, I am not special. She slips off her shoes and crawls underneath her sheets. I am simply a blood bag, a piece of meat to him simply. 

She falls asleep, and doesn’t dare dream of anything. She fears that even that might be ruined as well.

\- - - -

Marcel returns to her when the sun sets fully and the sky is purple and blue. Anastasia still lays in bed, still half asleep. Her stomach groans, and she sits up without noticing him at the door. 

"I see you’ve changed," He says, arms crossed in front of his slim chest. She looks back slightly to acknowledge him, and gives a nod before downing the wine left for her in small sips, nibbling on a slice of bread. "You look wonderful,"

Ana nods again, finishing and slipping on her shoes. She walks the short way to the window and draws open the black cloth.

"Sire," She begins, "Who else has worn this dress before me?" 

She feels dirty, filthy. She feels his eyes on her neck, his eyes on her waist and bosom like a hawk eyeing his prey. "Those clothes are freshly made, are they not? I only permit that for you to wear, since of course, you are my special Dolly."

She swallows thickly. "Sire," She remembers Dominique, and then presses her lips together, saving that for another day. "Sire, when will I be let outside? I wish to feel the sun on my skin again. Even If it is just once."

Marcel walks forward, and stands behind her, arms resting on the ledge of the window on either side of her. "Is now a good time? The moon is still beautiful, is it not?"  
She turns around to look at him, gasping as he is closer that she thought. "Now?" She whispers. "Really?"

"Are you ready? It is cold out."

"I have no cape." She replies, golden eyes flickering down to his lips, and then up again at his eyes. 

"I had one made just today. I think you will like it very much,"

He leads her out, hand In hand. He had instructed her to keep her head down, and stay by his side very closely inside the grounds. "You are envied in this home. Very much so." He had said.

They reach the door. It’s huge, with an arched top, and wooden designs etched into the face. "Marvelous," She says. "This place is beautiful,"

Anastasia then looks at Marcel, who had grabbed the cape from the rack by the door. It’s red, with golden embroidery on the edges, and reaches the ground with he throws it over her. The hood is laced with wolf fur, warm and soft against her rosy cheeks. "As are you," Marcel replies.

He opens the door, and sure enough the cold air cuts through her like knifes. She winces and takes a step back Into Marcel’s arms.

He pushes her forward, and shuts the door behind them. "It’s October, I believe," He says. "You humans are out celebrating a holiday, yes?"

Anastasia nods. "Halloween," She answers. 

"What a special day. You appropriate cultures and races, scare children and murder the innocent in hopes of seeing the Devil himself." He guides her down the large gravel walkway leading straight down the castle steps. "Yet, they have no idea they already have."

"What do you mean by that?" She asks softly, clutching to his coat as she struggles to find warmth in his cold embrace. 

"There is a village, a three days trip away," He takes a sharp left. There is a garden of red and silver roses. Bushes and herbs are grown. "I used to feed there before I found you,"

Anastasia barely makes a noise, her cheeks pink, ears matching, and breathe pushing hot puffs of air around her face. There is no snow, there is no ice, but there is cold. Their walking is slow paced. Anastasia looks up at the moon, down at the grass, and finally, breaks free of Marcel and walks on her own. They stop at the edge of the seemingly infinite garden, and Anastasia kneels down to touch the stem of a rose. She plucks it, and presses the petals to her nose, inhaling the scent. She relaxes her shoulders and smiles.

"Sire --"

"Marcel, please." He says. 

"Marcel, the garden is magnificent."

He walks over, plucks the rose from her hands, breaks off half the stem and then tucks it in her hair. "I hope so. It’s a lot of work to maintain."

She chuckles, blushes and touches the rose in her hair. "If it is not so much to ask, may I have a bouquet to put in my room? It - It is quiet plain," She says hesitantly. Marcel sets a hand on her waist. "Of course," He says. "Pick twelve of the prettiest flowers and I’ll wrap them and you’ll be able to keep them for as long as they last."

Her face lights up, and she leans up to kiss him, lips brushing his cheek, before she pulls away and runs around the garden, kneeling down and looking at all the wonderful flowers. Marcel walks to the corner, where a small stand sits, and an elegant wooden box. He opens it, and inside are folded sheets of wax paper and linen string. 

Anastasia comes back a few minutes later with a bundle of tulips, roses, lilies another wonderful plants. Marcel gives her a closed lip smile, and wraps them and ties them at the stem. "You can dry these in your room, and they’ll smell lovely." He says softly, a hand cupping her cheek. "However, for now, I wish to show you a place no one has been in over one hundred years."

"Show me...?" She whispers. "Really?"

He guides her through the patch of trees, a clean cut path of moss and stones lead through. In a bit of a limb, Anastasia looks back at the castle. 

It’s huge, built upon a hill of green grass and forest surrounding it. The rooms that are at the front of the buildings are all lit, orange and yellow light filtering though the curtains. "Do none of you sleep in coffins?" She asks softly. 

Marcel bellows out a laugh, and Anastasia manages a smile. "No," He murmurs. "We sleep in beds. Just as you do."

He leads her away, and soon the trees block the view from the castle.

She looks ahead, and before her is a stone wall, covered in moss and roses. Marcel stops before a glass door, and Anastasia walks forward, pressing a hand to the wall. "Cold," She says, "But the flowers... Do you visit this place often? Who is it for?"

"I had a wife once," He says. "A wonderful woman. However, when my sire turned me, I had to leave her." 

He copies her movement, setting his large hand on the wall. He crushes a flower in the process. "Everyone must leave someone."

Anastasia stares at him, before looking back at the wall. "When..." She swallows. "When you took me, I left a sister. My twin," Anastasia sighs, "However, if she finds me, I do not wish to leave you,"

"I am not a good man," Marcel says. "If you wish to love me, as you said, then you must know."

Anastasia keeps her mouth shut, and takes her hand off the wall. Her heart slows in her chest, her mind races with second hand decision’s she should have made. Her voice fails her now. She swallows thickly. 

"You remind me of her," He continues. "Your hair, your eyes. The way you look at me. Sometimes, I find myself calling out to her, instead of you."

She looks softly at him. "What was her name?" She whispers.

"Lila," He replies. "I lived with her in France until I was turned and taken from her. She died of sickness fifteen years afterward,"

Anastasia purses her lips. "I’m sorry,"

She has never seen him this way, never seen him so sad. His bright eyes don’t sparkle, the moonlight makes him blue. "I’ll show you inside. I would take Lila here before the castle was made. Here... Here I asked her hand in marriage."

Anastasia feels nervous. Should I really be entering this place? It is too precious to Marcel... I feel guilty...

He grabs her hand and pulls her in. Shutting the glass door. Inside, it's... plain.

A round patch of grass surrounded by a ring of clear blue water. In front of the door there is a simple brown bridge over the small amount of water. Inside the ring of healthy green grass Is a tree, and a stone bench underneath. No flowers, and around the tree and bench, the ground is covered in leafs. 

She walks inside, looking around, gripping the flowers. A powerful gust of wind swoops up the leafs, removing them from the bench. She sets her flowers down, and touches the bark of the tree. "It’s beautiful," She says.

Marcel sits on the bench, legs spread, hands on the rim behind him. She sits down next to him, and keeps her cold hands in her lap. "Doll," He says, "Look at me,"  
She turns to him, and he presses his lips to hers, a hand pressing to her other cheek, thumb against her chin as he tilts her head back. She breathes against him, a hand pressing to his chest. "Should we really..." He kisses her again, but she manages another few seconds of air. "Really do it here?"

He pulls away, brushes her cheek with his knuckles, and looks around. "I will have no guilt, if it is with you." He murmurs.

She kisses him with sudden bold streak, and inhales through her nose, shutting her eyes as she holds his cheeks in her warm palms, leaning into him. She throws a leg over his waist, and straddles him, rolling her hips, pushing Marcel softly against the tree. He groans and chuckles, hands pushing into her bum through her skirt. 

She pulls away. "Let me... Let me..."

She slowly slides off him, onto her knees on the ground as she mouths at his bulge. Marcel’s legs tremble, and Anastasia slowly fishes out his length, pressing a kiss to the head before taking it halfway in her mouth. 

Marcel is filled with warmth, gloved hands tangling in her blonde hair, pulling at it. She bobs her head, shutting her eyes and slowly taking it lower till her lips brush the base of his length. She pulls away, gasping for air. Marcel licks his lips, grabs her by her shoulders and hefts her up again. He kisses her, roughly, and lays her down on the soft grass, nestling between her legs. 

Anastasia whines, grinding up against him as he hikes up her skirt and pulls her undergarments out of the way before he pushes in slowly. Anastasia cries out, her cloak bunching at her waist. She shivers in the cool weather, and pushes her skirt down as Marcel creates a rough pace. 

"Marcel --" she cries out, his hands grabbing at her breasts, massaging them. Her breath stutters, her heart beating faster than before. She looks up at the moon above her, her body moving in pace with Marcel as he kisses her neck. 

The cool air bites into her legs, her knees turning red underneath her stockings. Marcel has no warmth, and even with her hands rubbing against his back, she feels no pulse other than the rhythm that their bodies share.

\- - - -

Anastasia is lead back to her room with her flowers in her arms. Her hair is contained underneath her hood. Marcel keeps kissing her at every corner, keeps rubbing her waist, keeps holding her. Stopping at Anastasias door, Marcel pauses. 

"I will be gone for a week." He drops, "I am visiting Brooklyn."

"I..." She keeps looking into his big blue eyes, keeps brushing his sideburns, keeps touching him like he is her. "Must you leave?"

"I have business," he replies. "You know I can’t leave it waiting."

She nods again and hugs him softly. "Be safe, Sire,"

\- - - -

A week passes and Anastasia lays in bed, her white nightgown bright in the moonlight.

Marcel shakes her awake softly, kissing her forehead. "Doll," He purrs. "Someone new is here."

She yawns, and hugs him softly, sitting up. "Must I change?" She rubs her eyes, and Marcel stands from the bed. "Yes," He replies.

She dresses herself slowly, tiredly. 

Her bodice is dark blue, swirled with white designs, her skirt an ivory midnight. She slips up her white socks and her black shoes before Marcel leads her out, her right hand resting in the crook of his elbow.

The twenty or so vampires that live in the castle stands amiss in the foyer. Anastasia grips Marcel tighter, tilting her head down, but still keeping her eyes straight.

He slams his foot down in the wooden boards, a hollow knock making everyone look over at him and Anastasia.

"We have a new brother in this family," Marcel’s thick French accent fills the room. "From Brooklyn."

Anastasia spots the boy just as he spots her. He must be no older than her, with red hair cut into an unstyled mow hawk, and bright blue eyes. Like Marcel. His jaw is sharp, thick brow and a black leather jacket zipped up over a white tee that’s covered in dried blood. Anastasia keeps close to Marcel.

Her sire keeps talking, and the boy keeps staring. She feels tired just standing, and when the vampires are dismissed, the boy stays back after a call from Marcel.

"Come here," Marcel beckons him. "Joa, this is Anastasia," 

Anastasia bows lightly. "Anastasia is the only human in the castle and she is /mine/ understand?"

Joa’s pupils shrink to pinpoints, and he grits his teeth, fangs sharp. "Why should I listen to what you have to say?" He growls. Marcel’s demeanor changes quickly, and power seems through his voice. 

"Because I said so," He replies. "Now don’t talk back,"

Anastasia is trembling, burying her face into Marcel’s shoulder. 

"The human," Joa snaps. "How long has she been here?"

"Four years,"

Anastasia peeks at Joa through her lashes, and gains herself again. "P-Pleased to meet you,"

She extends a hand for Joa to kiss, but he shakes it instead. "Where did you come from?"

"Me?" Anastasia is taken back. "I... I am unsure... G-Greece? Marcel... Do you know?"

"I saw her In Italy."

Joa pulls away from her, and licks the bottom of his teeth. "You look kind of tired." He remarks. 

"Now, Joa, let’s not dwell away from out topic." Marcel counters. "Starting tomorrow you will be learning French."

"Starting tomorrow I should be looking for Mark --"

"Off to your room. Dominique will show you." Marcel begins backing away with Anastasia, who grips him till her knuckles turns white. 

Anastasia follows Marcel back to her room, her brow still knit, her eyes wide with confusion. "You found me In Italy? I don’t feel like that’s where I’m from," She says. "Marcel -- It’s perfectly normal for you to keep me here, right? I’m not... I’m not a pet --"

He grabs her chin roughly and makes her look into his eyes. They’re furious, angry, and a whimper escapes from her lips, echoing down the hallway. Tears spring to her golden eyes. 

"Of course not, Dolly," he grins, that devilish look in his eyes. "You’re my very special toy."

\- - - -

Marcel leaves again, however, grants Anastasia free range of the castle as long as she is in the company of another vampire. 

She stands at the doorway of her room, brushing down her soft pink dress. Her hair is done up in an elegant braid, and she keeps her head low as she scans the hallways for another residents.

Her heels clack on the wood, her hands gripping at her elbows as she sneaks around, hopefully finding the dark haired vampire, or Dominique. She passes the foyer, and pauses at the stairwell, hands brushing up the wooden railings.

"Oi,"

Anastasia squeaks and ducks behind the railing, looking through the wooden bars. Joa stands with his hands in his pockets, still wearing the leather jacket, but his entire outfit was washed and ironed to perfection. "J-Joa!" She gasps. "You scared me -- please don’t do that again."

"I thought Marcel kept you locked up." He replies. "Why are you out?"

"Marcel doesn’t do that anymore," She stands and brushes her skirt free of wrinkles. "He said I could walk around so long as someone is with me. And now you are, so that means I can see the garden again!" She says happily, clasping her hands together, smiling. "You must come with me."

She walks over, and compared to Joa, she’s tiny. 

Joa stares back down at her, blue eyes crisp. "If... If you don’t want to... I won’t force you. Marcel told me he just changed you when you arrive here. Sometimes, he said, that one is still upset about their past."

Joa scoffs. "Whatever, let’s just go see the damn garden."

He walks to the grand doors and pauses as she slips on her red coat, buttoning the single woven disk before rushing out, hefting the door open for the both of them. Joa follows after her slowly as she walks the garden isles, brushing the roses with her nimble finger tips.

"Did you leave someone?" She asks softly, Joa following her.

"What’s it to you?"

"So you did."

Her response makes him upset, but he swallows it, and sighs. "Yeah, my girlfriend." He mumbles. "Jess. She was my life."

"Was she beautiful?" Anastasia stops at the roses, kneeling down and inhaling their scent.

"Hell yeah. Never seen a dame better than her." 

Anastasia looks up at him. "Sounds like Jess was loved."

Joa nods. "Did you leave someone? I know you aren’t... like /me/, but..."

"Yes, I left someone. My twin sister." Anastasia says. "But, I’m not upset. Marcel loves me so, I’m happy."

\- - - - 

Anastasia gets incredibly sick when she turns twenty three. Fever running high, sweating, stomach pains, coughs. 

"She isn’t well," Dominique pleads. "Her sickness is new. A few drops of your blood doesn’t cut it anymore."

"I will not turn her," He replies calmly, "Find a way."

Dominique sighs. "She is going to die within the week if you do not do something. I’m sorry, but you have to make a decision."

\- - -

The second day of her sickness, Anastasia coughs out a lump of blood out onto her pillow. Marcel switches the sheets and then lays with her, calming her from her fever with his icy cold skin, staying with her while she cries in her sleep, answering her fever ridden questions. 

"Joa..." Anastasia whispers. "Marcel, I want to see him before I go."

"Go where, my Doll?" Marcel asks.

"Heaven. I’ll meet Lila. I’m going to go to that special place in the sky and meet the first woman who stole your h-ea.-rat --" She begins coughing, sweat in dripping across her forehead. Marcel grabs the cup of water, and Anastasia slaps it away weekly.

"Get Joa," She says again, eyes shut. "Please, my love,"

Marcel grits his teeth before sliding from bed and walking to the door. "Fetch the boy. Now."

\- - - -

The third day of her sickness, Anastasia shakes so badly she can’t speak. She’s curled up against Marcel, trembling, cold flashes beating her, making her sob with pain and discomfort. She stutters out Marcel’s name, barely even that, but he keeps his arms around her. His icy blue eyes staring straight ahead at the wall.

\- - - -

The fourth day, Anastasia sleeps for fifteen hours before waking up to belch out a puddle of blood on the floor. She trembles and shakes as other vampires clean up her mess, and clutches tightly to the wall.

"Please, Marcel, end my suffering." She says hoarsely. Her eyes hold bags underneath them, her skin a sickly pale. Marcel, for whatever heart was left in him, turns his head away simply. 

\- - - -

Fifth day, Anastasia can’t stand, can’t eat. She speaks in whispers.

"It was nice while it lasted, yes?" She whispers to Marcel. "I love you. I loved you."

"Do you wish to be like me? A vampire? The one who is chased by the sun and the people who are born for it? Do you wish to become a slave to the blood, as I?"

"Yes," Anastasia says. "If that means I will remain with you, then my soul is yours. My heart, my body." She looks at him, skin milky white. 

"Then show me your neck, Dolly, and take a breath before you give yourself up."

\- - - -

The sixth day does not come. Neither the seven nor the eight. The only thing now, is the night, and Moon Goddess who had blessed Anastasia with now Sun Born slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays  
> i want to die  
> het sex hurts the soul


End file.
